Harry Potter - Master of Death
by Indexboy13
Summary: When Harry ends the war, it was with too much loss. 10 years later, his friends and professors, what's left of them anyway, enact a plan where Harry will be sent to a place where he could finally be happy. AU/Time Travel
1. Chances and Choices

**Harry Potter – Master of Death**

Chapter 1 – Chances and Choices

_May 3, 1998 – Hogwarts Castle_

Harry Potter, recently named Man-Who-Conquered, stood not more than two feet away from the white tomb of his deceased mentor, Albus Dumbledore, the Elder Wand clutched tightly in his right hand.

'_Is this how you wanted it?'_ was the question. It wasn't spoken, but it was in his eyes, along with grief and resentment.

It was the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, and both sides suffered the loss of their comrades. More so for the opposing side, Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters, Giants, Dementors, and all the creatures that he had allied with.

Their Lord dead and the army in shambles, the rest fled.

However, it was not without loss, as their side has suffered casualties as well. The Weasley family cut down into three members- Arthur, George, and Ginny- the professors reduced to Flitwick and McGonagall, the order dead protecting the village of Hogsmeade, and the students who participated massacred until it was only him and the rest of the 'Ministry Six', bar Ron of course.

And it was all because of the old man, Harry knew. The old man led them all in this wild goose chase across half of the continent, instead of just giving them the answers or, heck, destroying the rest of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes himself.

But no, instead of just ending the war before it even began, he let it go on, and it was only because of the greater end of Harry's luck, as well Riddle's arrogance, that led to them winning the Second War with You-Know-Who.

Back to Harry and the tomb, he was thinking, thinking of what he was going to do now. With only two teachers and the ministry still trying to retain order, the school was most definitely going to close down for at least ten years.

He was fingering a stone in his left hand, the Resurrection Stone, the stone gifted by Death to the Gaunt ancestor Cadmus Peverell, one of the three brothers in the legend of the Deathly Hallows. The others being Antioch and Harry's own ancestor, Ignotus Peverell, from whom he inherited his infamous Cloak of Invisibility.

He dropped it when he came face to face with Voldemort, but he came back to the spot where he dropped it after Riddle's death, lest someone else recognized it for what it as instead of just a simple black pebble.

He, Harry, needed guidance, and he knew that only one person can give the right one to him. Lily Potter, his own mother.

He turned the stone three times on his palm, and he immediately felt the warmth of his mother's presence.

She was smiling at him, as if she knew what he needed, and she did. After all, she was watching him, even in death. Of course, no mother should be called one if she doesn't worry about the welfare of her own children.

"What now?" he asked desperately. He needed a purpose, because he needed it, a reason to continue his own existence to keep living. I mean, sure he still had his friends, but there were only four of them now, and his teachers? Pfft, he wasn't _that _close to them. McGonagall maybe, but she still had work to, find the muggleborns and teach them how to at least keep their magic intact before they blow up.

"You need to learn," she told him. "Learn how to live with the non-magicals. There isn't much to do now. So the only choice left is to go the mundane."

"Mundane?" he questioned, wondering why she used that to name the muggles.

She rolled her eyes, "Did you know that the purebloods of old- the bigoted ones, mind you-used that term so that they could get away with demeaning them while still preventing the other term from escaping their lips?"

He didn't. Honestly, this was more of Hermione's forte-finding out about these facts. So he just muttered "Oh, okay."

She chuckled at him, and is cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He just felt so inadequate. He briefly wondered if his own mother was named "Brightest witch of her age" like his best friend, but he removed such thoughts. Now wasn't the time.

He still had had to wonder though, "What _exactly_ do I need to learn?"

"Everything," she told him simply, as if learning _everything _there is to know about the mundane is as easy as getting lost at the halls of Hogwarts on the first day.

"What?" he blurted out.

"You went to school before haven't you?" she questioned rhetorically.

"W-well, yeah but, I was only about to go to fifth grade before I received my letter."

"Trust me Harry, you aren't missing much in just a few years," she pointed to the castle, most of it still intact, but still needed repairs, and not just the castle itself.

"You can still owl your friends can't you?" That was a slightly touchy subject. She knew of Hedwig's demise, but still, she wanted to know what he was going to do about it.

He flinched slightly at the word 'owl', but got over it a few seconds later. He can still see, in his mind, the lifeless form of his avian friend. He wondered how he would do that, owl his friends that is, while still going incognito in a mug-mundane, he corrected, learning institute, until he got an idea moments later.

"Luna, Neville, and …Ginny can have Hermione send the letters, I'll give them my address by a Patronus message, and I can still give them updates on how I'm holding up." He stumbled over Ginny's name; he still needed to talk to her about that.

She gazed at him sympathetically; she heard, quite clearly, his hesitation on saying Ginny's name. She can't really advise him on how to work that out. He needed to sort it out all on his own, and they both knew it, so he didn't ask about that.

He then realized another thing, "How am I paying for supplies?" He had a lot of money, he knew but he wondered if his Trust Vault can handle at most ten years of his life. 'Maybe I couldget a job,' he thought to himself.

He was broken out of his musings by the sound of his mother's amused laughter.

"What?"

"Oh Harry, do you know how much money you have in your Family Vault?" she questioned with a smile.

"My Family Vault?" he wondered. 'I have more than one vault?'

"Yes, the Potter family fortune has amassed a whole load of treasures and artifacts, as well as a library the size of, well five Great Halls is the best I can compare it to, along with the treasuries of its own ancestors, the Peverell. While the fortune should have gone to the descendants of Cadmus, the Gaunts, meaning Voldemort" -here, Harry shivered at the thought of Voldemort having all the information the Peverell Library held- "you had, well, _defeated_ him when you were fifteen months old, and so, by Right of Conquest, all that are in his vaults, and his servants' vault, is yours, including the Peverell Vault."

"His servants'…. So, wait, you're saying that I could've just waltzed in there, request permission to go inside the Lestrange Vault, grab the Chalice, and walk away, just _like THAT?!" _he asked incredulously.

His mother giggled at the face he made, "Of course, that is, if Dumbledore had cared to enlighten you on that matter." She scowled as she said this.

Harry just sighed, 'Another thing the old codger just _forgot _to tell me.'

Still, he remembered one, _tiny little _detail, "How can even enter Gringotts? I stole from them. And I even imperius'd some of them more than just a few times."

She winced. That _was _bad.

"Well, you'll just have to explain to them. I'm sure they'll understand once you told them it was to retrieve a soul anchor of Riddle's," she assured him.

"Maybe," he said, not very convinced.

"Anyway, once you settled the matter, and successfully retrieve your funds, you will need to enroll first. Can't buy your materials if you don't know what they are, can you?"

"Which one?" he needed to know which school would serve him best.

"It's your choice. Pick the one you think would suit your needs. Check their facilities, their faculty, and most importantly, their standing. You can't just pick a school that may have some underhanded dealings," she instructed him.

"Right," he agreed.

"And don't forget to use protection if you ever decided to lose your virginity," she told him, complete with a straight face.

"Err, what?" he asked, red-faced and not quite following.

"Harry," she calmly explained, "you died a virgin-"his face flushed "-and also, you're still going to be in school, so, no grandchildren for me yet, alright?"

He can't speak much, due to his embarrassment, so he just settled for a nod.

"Good."

"Now, what are you going to do with that?" she asked, pointing at the wand in his hand.

He frowned. "I don't know," he shrugged, "Hide it so no one can use its power maybe."

"Well, if I were you, I would keep it for myself," he raised his eyebrow. "No one knows you have it, Harry. The ones who do are few, and some of them are dead," she quickly explained.

"Oh, well, makes sense." He muttered.

"Good, now," before he could react, he was engulfed in his mother's warm embrace, the warmth and love radiating from his mother quickly calming him from the pleasantly unexpected physical contact.

"I love you," she whispered to his ear.

"I love you too, mum," he replied, returning the hug.

They stayed like this for a few more minutes before Harry could feel Lily's body fading away.

His eyes held sadness. He knew he couldn't summon her again anytime soon, or he'll end up like he second brother, insane from being kept away from his loved ones.

"Goodbye," he said to her, all the while wiping the tears streaming down his face.

"I hope not to see you soon," she replied, trying to ignore her own tears.

And with one last smile, Lily Potter returned to the afterlife.

Harry stayed like that for a few more moments, looking at the spot where his mother stood just seconds, minutes ago.

Eventually, he returned to the castle, to explain to his friends, what is left of them anyway, his plan of action for the next few years.

***TIMESKIP***

The next three years was uneventful for Harry Potter. He went to school, messaged his friends, shagged some women (and then some), and with the help of his always present best friend Hermione, he quickly followed the timetable she set up for him.

When McGonagall heard of his conversation with his mother, she smiled sadly, and told him how proud his mother would be if he followed that plan of action, told him of what a genius his mother was.

When he heard of it, he resolved to always do his best, and in the three years he went to college (he had help from Flitwick who told the headmaster their cover story from Hogwarts for when the First Gens, the muggleborns, want to finish their muggle education and had to explain where they had been having their education for seven years), he graduated.

He didn't know what to do next, but remembered his inadequacy in magic (much due to Ron rubbing his laziness off him), and so he set of to the Room of Requirement, which he knew was at least still standing, and with more help from Hermione (and her company), He mastered all the spells the Room gave him for the next six years.

Not too much dark magic though, just the ones that are the least dark, but still incredibly useful. It was in case someone had an attempt for his life (or wand).

***TIMESKIP***

*Harry's POV*

He was running, running from his pursuers. He didn't know who they were, but the robes and the masks were a dead giveaway.

He didn't know how they found him; he was in a cottage just outside the outskirts of a quiet town. All he heard was a loud explosion before the door was unhinged.

He could have just killed them all, but the townspeople heard the explosion, he knew, and he didn't want to explain all the dead bodies, so he had to lure them out of town.

He grabbed his wand and fled out the window. He got rid of his glasses when Hermione found a spell that fixes your eyesight. It was slightly dark, but mostly because of the repercussions if not handled well, and now, his vision was now a lot better, not exactly 20/20, but close enough.

After few miles he faced his pursuers, and quickly got ready to unleash a volley of spells when he felt something hit his back, and all he knew was darkness.

*Pursuers' POV*

"Did it work?" one of them asked. He looked slightly taller than the rest of them. He took off his mask, and the face of one Neville Longbottom showed.

"Of course it did. After all, the wrackspurts wanted to help, and they are highly useful when they are your allies," another replied. This one's build looked like it belonged to a female, and the voice sounded airy, as if the person was not all there. The mask was taken off, showing Luna Lovegood with an uncharacteristically sad face.

"If anyone deserved a new life, its Harry, he's been through so much. It's a good thing I found that spell when I did," the last one said, removing the mask, showing a teary-faced Hermione Granger.

Said spell was one that judges the soul. If they are found worthy, they are given a new life and sent back to an age where, retaining all their memories, they can fix their greater problems at the earliest. One would say they were sent to another dimension,

If they're _not_ worthy, the ground will open up, and send them to hell, mind, body, and spirit and be judged again for a suitable punishment for their misdeeds.

And if they're on both sides of the fence, well, the spell won't do anything. It was designed for heroes and villains of the times of old, when Merlin walked the Earth.

It was astonishing that a spell such as that was in the castle, and no one ever knew of it, until now that is.

"Thanks for all the help, Professors," Hermione said to the area where the spell came from.

A chuckle could be heard, as well as footsteps and rustling leaves from fallen leaves of the trees.

"We're just glad to help," said the old voice of Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts.

"Yes," a much shorter man, Filius Flitwick, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, squeaked out.

The plan was to lure the target, Harry, away and knowing of his personality, created an act that will have the citizens to come out of their homes and check it out. They knew Harry didn't want to make a scene, so they had created a big explosion. When he got out of the window, they followed him. They had to change positions of following him, making it look like they were coming from all sides, when actually; they were leading him towards the professors, who were hiding in the bushes, not being able to be the ones to chase him, with their old bodies and all.

They quickly took his body and had a small, improvised funeral. They watched sadly as his body was levitated and set inside the coffin and buried in the ground.

They all left an hour later, all the while thinking 'Good luck in your new life, Harry.

Chapter End

Word Count: 2652

AN: So, this is my first time here, so please be nice. Anyway, I wanted to know what you guys think, so leave some reviews, 'kay?

Indexboy13 signing out.


	2. The In-Between

Me: So I've set up a poll on when should I send Harry to. Which means this isn't the new world yet, so sorry if I disappointed you, and also for the shortness, but then again, I need to know what timeline should he arrive in before I set up any background. Anyway-

Harry: Just give them the chapter already will you

Me: I was getting to that! I just need to do the disclaimer, which I forgot las-

Harry: Indexboy13 doesn't own Harry Potter or anything related to it, and only owns this plot and his eventual OC, now there.

Me: Tch, fine, here's the chapter.

Chapter 2 – The In-Between

_Unknown time, the In-Between_

His body felt light, floating, as if… weightless.

He didn't know where he was or how long he had been staring at the endless space of … whiteness.

All he knew was that, was that…

'Why is it so cold?' he thought to himself.

He looked down and saw why.

He wasn't wearing any clothes.

'Huh?' he briefly wondered, before it actually sinked in that he was naked as the day he was born.

"Ahhhh!" he screamed, his arms flailing wildly around him. "Where the bloody hell are my clothes?!" he shouted out.

A chuckle could be heard from everywhere in the white void of nothingness, and it spoke up. "If you wanted clothes, then you only need to think of wearing it."

Harry didn't know where the voice came from or from whose it is, but he listened to the slightly familiar voice.

A second later, and he was wearing dark jeans, a black polo shirt and white sneakers.

"Now, erm, who are y-? No, wait, _where_ are you?" he called out.

"Me? I'm right here, Harry." And suddenly, a man appeared right in front him. No sounds, no loud cracks, no soft pops, he just… _appeared._

Due to that, he landed his rear on the, well, floor, quite unceremoniously at that, blurting out "Whoa!"

The man, wearing a black cloak with tatters at the end, and the hood up, chuckled. "Now, it's nice to see that you can still make me laugh, Harry."

"Huh? How do you know my name?" he asked, rubbing his rear after standing up.

"Oh? You don't remember me, Harry? That hurts, hurts just right here." The man, well, he looked and _sounded_ like a man, said, pointing his… finger at the area where one's heart should be.

Harry didn't respond, for he was staring at the finger, the whole _hand_ actually. It didn't have any flesh, no. It was just bones.

"Death?" tentatively, he asked.

"Got it in one, kiddo," the man, now known as the entity that is Death, replied. He pulled down his hood, showing a skull, which was somehow formed to looked like it was smiling.

"I really don't know how you can smile, I mean, your face is just a large bone!" Harry said to the soul reaper, shaking his head, the fingers of his right hand printed on his forehead, and the thumb on his cheekbones, the middle of his palm resting on his nose.

"Well now, Harry, I already told you about that. This-" Death waved his hand around his head, "to me, is like skin is for you." He finished.

"Anyway, firstly, where am I? And secondly, why am I here?" he asked his, by all intents and purposes, servant.

"For your first question, _this-_" Death swept his right arm around "- is known by many names. The crossover, limbo, the other side, but for now, we shall call it the In-Between."

"The In-Between?" Harry questioned.

"Yes, the place where _one _reality, and _another _reality, meet. These _realities_ are dimensions, dimensions, of which, are created by a_ single_ difference. That is to say, if Merope Gaunt had lived through her labor, and she had raised her son to be a loved and kind, upstanding young man, then Voldemort would have never existed. See? Right there." Death said, pointing his bony finger at a space in the In-Between.

Harry looked where he was pointing, and saw a substance, reminiscent of the ones in a pensieve, a cloud like liquid gas, showing the handsome face of a smiling man, which he connected with Tom Riddle's. Only that this one's face looked a lot older, in his thirties probably.

The smiling Tom Riddle, he saw, was seated at the Headmaster's throne-like chair in what appeared to be the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Then there's also one with a difference of that night when your parents died. The 'what if' here, is that 'What if Sirius Black didn't chase after Peter Pettigrew when he had found out about his betrayal?'

The mist like substance shifted, this time showing fifteen-year-old Harry on a motorcycle, a wild grin on his face, shifting his eyes to the right, where Sirius Black appeared, a wild grin also on his face, on another motorcycle. They appeared to be racing.

"And then, there's also 'What if magic never existed?'

The mist then showed a rather interesting site. It was the streets of London, only this time; it was much, _much_ more crowded.

"If magic didn't exist, the old purebloods wouldn't mind mingling with those lower than them, because there weren't any; and also, if magic didn't exist, Gellert Grindelwald would, and could not be able to use the Imperius on Adolf Hitler."

The mist shifted again, this time showing a man in researcher's clothes working with other scientists.

"Now, the In-Between is a place where the soul is to be judged by -"

"Judged?" Harry cut him off. "I'm… dead?"

"Well, no, to be dead, you have to be killed, and technically, you weren't. You should _that_." Death pointed to an area in his right.

Harry looked, and far away he saw Kings' Cross Station.

"But that's!-"

"Yes, _that _is the place in which Dumbledore has managed to somehow worm his way into, and be the one to give you the choice to pass on or go back instead of your mother when you last came here." Death explained.

"Oh." Despite his now very high levels of intelligence, he really didn't know what to say to that.

"Back to my explanation, the In-Between a place where the soul is to be judged by yours truly." Death pointed to himself.

"Judged? Judge for _what_ exactly?" he was really confused, Death never spoke of this before, then again, the only times when Death ever came to meet him was if he ever needed it, and that far less than the number of scars he had acquired in his lifetime.

"You, Harry James Potter-Black, are to be judged on your place of destination. Whether it be Hell-" Death opened up a very dark pit in his right by waving his hand over an area to his left and high intense levels of heat could be felt from the pit "-or your new life."

This time, Death raised his palm to his right, and a rather ornate set of white double doors appeared. Both sides of the doors opened towards them and what Harry saw made tears run down his face and his knees buckle.

There, just by the doors, he could see a red-haired woman with green eyes smiling as she held a small bundle of blankets wrapped around a baby.

She was making cooing sounds and making faces at the baby. The baby laughed and giggled and clapped his hands, all the while drool was slathered on his-it was a boy, he saw- chin.

The sound of a man's chuckle averted his attention to another person in the- what he deduced to be-living room. The man, too, was smiling as held a napkin and wiped the boy's face off of drool.

He knew who they were. They were his parents – and the baby was most definitely himself.

"What-?" he was about to ask, but the great deity cut him off before he could continue the rest of his sentence.

"All in due time, milord, for now, you are to be judged; and before Harry could react, Death grabbed his shoulders.

Harry tried to move, but it seems that he is paralyzed. "Hey!"

"What are you-" the rest of his words shall be forever unknown. Why? Because, right now, Death has looked him in the eye, and he felt chill tingle down his spine.

Time passed. Seconds, minutes, hours, _days_ even, could have passed, he didn't know, but after what felt like forever, he heard Death chuckling, and then Darkness. Before that though, he managed to think, 'He never even told me how I got here.'

*Death's POV*

He(?) chuckled because he(?) heard the last thoughts of the twenty-eight year old man, to be now a baby, as he passed out.

"Forgive me Master, but that question is to be answered another time."

The area where the skull is supposed to be appeared to ripple, as well as the area around the bony hands of Death.

After the ripples, the bony hands now showed pale, white – ivory - hands. The skull now showed the pale skin of a smirking woman's face, her eyes, a rich, golden color, were full of mischievousness.

The now reintroduced female deity then decided to put the man's body on her shoulders, carrying him fireman style; and with a pop, she disappeared.

Only to reappear in the same room she showed earlier, only this time, the occupants were all sleeping, the mother leaning on the chest of the father-who appeared to have passed out partly on the armrest and the backrest of the couch they promptly made into an impromptu bed.

And the baby? The baby was sleeping peacefully in between, a cute smile on his soft features.

Death smiled to herself.

"Good luck, Master." She whispered as she carefully inserted the now white ball of her Master's soul into the baby, and merged the two souls together. The effects were slightly unnoticeable, physically that is. The smile just grew wider.

On the inside, however, the magic levels inside the baby merged with the ones that are attached to the elder Harry's soul. It grew and grew, but then deflated back to normal, if slightly larger levels.

Normally, the merging of two magical cores would have been dangerous, and the baby's soul, as well as her Master's, would have ceased to exist, and the body imploding.

However, due to it being Lady Death to be the one to be the merger, as well as very concise method, the merger was a success.

Death took one last look at her Master's face, and couldn't help but coo "Aww, Master looks soooo _cute _as a baby." And with one last giggle, she disappeared and went back to her own realm.

Word Count: 1690+

Me: Yeah, short, I _know_, but that was only the transition, but I promise you, the next one will be somewhere around 6k+, I promise. 'Course, that'll probably take two weeks cause I am still unsure where to send him, so I had put up a poll for that one.

Harry: Or you could just PM him.

Me: That too, anyway I'll close the poll on the third day of April, so vote now or PM cause based on the results, I'll have to write soon after. I haven't written any drafts yet, cause, that's up to you guys, but I have general idea on his adventures at Hogwarts.

Harry: Really?

Me: Yeah, and I even added a sort of dueling competition, like some of the other fanfics, instead of just putting in Quidditch as the only sport, I might even add some sort of Broom Racing sport, maybe.

Harry: Cool

Me: Oh, and thanks for the reviews, however little. It does my heart well that I can at least please a few people in this site. The answer of the question of OregonDucks is somewhere in the chapter, if you look close enough. Bye now.

Indexboy13 signing out.


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